"The Mercenary" (1968)

"The Mercenary" (1968), directed by Sergio Corbucci, 3.5 stars

“Better a live clown than a dead hero” – Sergei Kowalski

In this lesser known 1960s Italian Western, a Polish mercenary and a peasant turned bandit strike up an on-again, off-again relationship during the Mexican Revolution.  Sergei Kowalski (Franco Nero) narrates in flashback how he joined forces with Paco Roman (Tony Musante) and his gang of ambivalent, bank-robbing revolutionaries and, for a fee, teaches them how to up their game, ultimately significantly raising both the bar as well as the bounty on Paco’s head.  In the meantime, a malevolently lethal saloon owner nicknamed Curly (Jack Palance) intercedes when he thinks that there’s money to be made by intervening in a deal Sergei has made with a local mine owner.  Things go wrong for all concerned, pitting Curly in turns against Sergei and Paco as an homage to if not a complete rip-off of “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.”  However, in this film, none of the lead actors or the characters they portray is nearly as strong as their counterparts in the Eastwood, Van Cleef, and Wallach classic.  As a result, the story of a peon bandito initially mistaken for and then actually evolving into a revolutionary leader doesn’t grab the audience the way it might were it better cast and better crafted with richly-drawn characters.

Fortunately, acting alone isn’t often the make-it-or-break-it component in an Italian Western.  There’s also action and angles, of which there is much on display here.  Director Sergio Corbucci, in deference to or in strict imitation of Sergio Leone, uses cinematography that is self-consciously larger than life.  It’s rife with zooms, and it has more than its fair share of elaborate yet fluid camera movements, canted angles, quick cuts, and extreme close-ups.  All of these characteristics are signatories of the genre.

 Also contributing to the film’s extremely operatic quality is the playful score by the iconic Ennio Morricone and Bruno Nicolai (who also worked with Leone on "For a Few Dollars More" and "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly"), which interconnects and also punctuates the various violent interludes:  the hangings, firing squads, machine-gun massacres and more personal, yet equally casual murders.  Sometimes the music soars; just as often it sneers.  It also whistles, whipcracks, and wails; and at one point, during a climactic shootout, it bursts into a fully-orchestrated bolero.  The combination of sights and sounds are a feast for the eyes and ears, and though they outsize and outshine the plot and performances (or, perhaps, because they do), I enjoyed the film quite a bit.

“Lord Jim,” (1966)

“Lord Jim,” (1966), directed by Richard Brooks, 3.5 stars

“I've been a so-called coward and a so-called hero and there's not the thickness of a sheet of paper between them” – Tuan (“Lord”) Jim

Young Jim, long before the title “Lord” is bestowed upon him, is an extremely green British sailor with plenty of energy and an ardent sense of adventure.  Unfortunately, on his very first voyage, he and his fellow crew members abandon ship and the ship’s passengers during a fierce and fearsome storm.  When their life boat arrives in port, the ship they left behind is there, having been rescued soon after their hasty and cowardly departure.  Although the captain and other deserters manage to slip away, Jim faces up to his overarching sense of shame by fessing up publicly to his crime, for which he is removed from service by a naval court of inquiry.  From that point forward he must lay low, finding work at odd jobs as best he can.  Much later, as Jim helms a small craft containing a cargo of dynamite, native members of the crew light the boat on fire in an attempt to sabotage the mission by detonating the explosives.  Rather than flee danger yet again by jumping overboard, Jim risks his life and extinguishes the fire, thereby gaining the good graces of Stein (Paul Lukas), a businessman for whom the dynamite was destined.

What happens next is an up-river journey not altogether dissimilar to “Heart of Darkness,” another work by “Lord Jim” author, Joseph Conrad.  Stein sends Jim and the dynamite upstream into the jungle on behalf of villagers who are attempting to rebel against a devious and mercilessly sadist known as The General (Eli Wallach). The General oversees a tin mining operation and has commandeered members of the local community to work in the mine.  Jim is captured and then tortured by The General, but the rebels manage to free him by draping him in a shroud and ushering him out of the fortress.  Before the night is over, Jim has devised a plan which ultimately allows the rebels to capture the fortress and free the imprisoned workers. For his planning and leadership, the natives designate him as Tuan” or “Lord.”

But Jim can never fully emotionally extricate himself from his past.  He lives in fear of being exposed to the locals who look up to him, and he worries that he will once again succumb to his fears during a critical moment when he must display disciplined leadership.  Pride and principles exact a cost, and dearly-won payments are made by others, not only our harried hero.  Peter O’Toole’s incredible intensity works to the film’s advantage.  Both arch-villains, first the General and later Gentleman Brown (James Mason), are quick to identify Jim’s weakness—an exaggerated tendency toward heroics —and each is able to advance his own agenda by relying on Jim to behave in a predictable manner.  There are some well-argued philosophical dialogues scattered throughout, and I wish I could have rewound the film and listened to them all again.

The 70mm print was vivid and pristine, bringing out all of the fine detail in the grand architecture and lush landscape of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat temple complex.  It’s no surprise that the film was nominated by the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) for best art direction and cinematography.

“Khartoum” (1966)

“Khartoum” (1966), directed by Basil Dearden, 3.5 stars

“I don't trust any man who consults God before he consults me” – General Charles Gordon

Charlton Heston plays yet another larger-than life, charismatic commander in this 70mm extravaganza that follows the events leading up to the 1885 siege of Khartoum by Muhammad Ahmad (Laurence Olivier).  Ahmad has proclaimed himself Mahdi, redeemer of Islam, and his loyal supporters have already defeated a British-led army much bigger and better equipped than they.  Most everything I know about the history of the British Empire I’ve learned from epic films such as this, so I'm hardly to be trusted as a reliable source to assess its accuracy. Heston plays General Charles George Gordon, the man sent by British Prime Minister Gladstone (Ralph Richardson) to single-handedly evacuate Europeans from the endangered Sudanese city of Khartoum, all the while keeping a low-profile so the British are not associated with yet another embarrassment in the region should he fail.  The popularity of the Gladstone-led government is at an all-time low, and the fact that it appeared reticent to come to Gordon’s aid actually resulted in a rebuke from Queen Victoria, an incident I gleaned from Wikipedia, not the film.

I’m not a big fan of Heston’s screen acting, and his being cast as a British general seems a bit perplexing.  He doesn’t try very hard to affect an authentic accent, nor does he look at all like Charles Gordon, who was apparently only five foot five whereas Heston dominates every shot he’s in (see photo).  Nevertheless, as the film progressed, I admit to mostly forgetting about any of that and simply enjoyed the action, which I would liken to a more exotic, arid, and literate version of Davy Crockett’s terminal adventure, a sort of El Alamo.

Whether politics did or didn’t figure largely in the outcome or whether Gordon and the Mahdi ever really did swap philosophical views doesn’t really matter.  The film is less a history lesson than a window into extraordinary men acting in and reacting to extraordinary situations.  And speaking of acting, Olivier and Richardson are marvelous, and Heston is actually pretty good, too.  The supporting cast is large, and the more prominent players among them also provide solid performances, particularly Johnny Seka as Khalil, Gordon's loyal aide-de-camp.  The dialog is crisp, there’s plenty of action, and the savage North African scenery, especially when seen in 70mm, is truly spectacular.

“Hercules in the Haunted Kingdom” (1961)

“Hercules in the Haunted Kingdom” (1961), directed by Mario Bava, 2.5 stars

"Have you the courage to venture beyond the gates of Hades?" –  Medea (the Sibyl)

After hearing Sam Raimi on the commentary for the DVD for “Ju-on (The Grudge)” praise Mario Bava as a major influence, I decided I ought to check out some of that director’s films on Netflix.  I’ve tried to stay away from the low-budget Italian horror genre because the films look so cheesy and the plots are always pretty mindless.  But as I’ve grown older, I've tried to put away my younger if not completely childish thoughts and now give films I once considered unworthy a second chance.

I thought I’d watch Bava's films in date order, and though “Hercules in the Haunted Kingdom” was the earliest of his films that I could find. it’s probably not the one an avid fan would recommend starting with.  It’s badly acted, poorly written, and very cheaply done.  It follows Hercules (Reg Park) as he descends into Hades with his handsome, oversexed, friend Theseus (George Ardisson) and comic sidekick Telemachus (Franco Giacobini) to seek the stone of forgetfulness which will, according to the Sibyl, restore the mental state of his lover, Daianara (Leonora Ruffo).  She, it seems, is under a spell cast by the evil Lico (Christopher Lee), who Hercules erroneously believes is his ally and winds up fighting during the film’s climax.  But well before then, Hercules discovers that to enter Hades, he must first retrieve the golden apple of the Hesperides, which he does by hurling a huge boulder at it, loosening the apple from the top of an enormous vine from whence it drops a vast distance to the earth unharmed.  He also manages to span a massive, seething mud pool by tying a vine to another boulder, hurling it across the abyss where it lodges on the far side, and then swing across the vine arm across arm as a fierce wind kicks up around him.  Hercules hurls many more massive objects with equal effect before restoring Daianara's memory, getting rid of Lico, and otherwise bringing about a happy ending.

The highlight of the film for me was the sequence just after which skeletal corpses oh so slowly emerge from their tombs and then go after Hercules, suddenly taking wing and launching themselves through the air in his direction.  Their movements are nicely done, and they’re especially effective because the creatures launch themselves somewhat subjectively; that is, they take aim at the camera, presumably representing Hercules’ perspective.  Since I was more interested in Bava for his reputation as a director of horror films rather than mythic hero sagas, and this sequence, I imagine, is a precursor of things to come in his later films.

Bava is not the first director of Italian horror films that I’ve encountered, and I’ve actually run into him before, though I didn’t know it at the time.  About a year ago, I watched several films by Dario Argento, including “Suspiria” (1977), and just this past week, “Inferno” (1980).  He  worked with Argento on both of these films, and the latter was Bava's last effort (though for some reason he received no screen credit for it).  He died that same year.  No doubt, Argento was very much influenced by the elder filmmaker.

One last thing specific to the Netflix offering of “Hercules in the Haunted Kingdom." The print is awful.  It's scratched, the sound is poor, it's clearly a badly made dupe, and there are even some digital artifacts.  Also, the film was shot in widescreen (2.35:1) but the Netflix version looks to have been cropped from television print (1.33:1).  This is noticeable throughout, but most obvious during the closing credit sequence during which the names and titles do not fit on the screen.  This didn't add one whit to my appreciation of the film.  Netflix can (and should) do better than this.

Next up, Bava’s “Black Sabbath” (1963).

Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012)

Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012), directed by Benh Zeitlin, 4.5 stars

“When you're small you’ve got to fix what you can” – Hushpuppy

Fox Searchlight has a real winner in “Beasts of the Southern Wild.”  The film features a stirring performance by six-year old Quvenzhané Wallis, who plays Hushpuppy, a young girl living with her sickly but stern and stubborn father (Dwight Henry) in the unforgiving marshland somewhere in bayou country on the outskirts of New Orleans.  The story of the impact and aftermath of a fierce tropical storm on a small community dubbed the “Bathtub,” is told from her point of view.  It is also a story of coping with overwhelming loss.  The area has been ravaged.  Nearly all of the homes are either completely submerged or damaged beyond repair.  Those few who have opted not to leave prior to the deluge begin defiantly rebuilding their lives, but then the government intercedes, condemning homes and forcibly evacuating the remaining residents.  Hushpuppy’s world is in upheaval.  Her teacher has warned her and her classmates of the perils of global warming, and the young girl envisions ancient aurochs (forerunners of modern cattle, but depicted in the film as fierce, oversized boars) stampeding into the modern world after being released from a cryogenic state by melting polar icecaps.

Nature plays a palpable part in the film. One can almost smell the stench of rotting animal carcasses, feel the heavy pull of mud under foot, taste the juices flowing from freshly-fished steamed crabs and crawdads. The community depends almost entirely for its livelihood on the whim of natural forces, so it follows that the a close relationship to the environment permeates the entirety of their lives.  Hushpuppy, a precocious, highly-intuitive philosopher, sums it up best. “The whole universe depends on everything fitting together just right.  If one piece busts, even the smallest piece, the entire universe will get busted.”  Her community takes every opportunity to celebrate because it will never acquiesce to the overwhelming force of nature and its cycle of life and death.  As Hushpuppy proudly asserts early on in the film, “the Bathtub has more holidays than the whole rest of the world.”

Although filmed in areas in and within a few hours drive from New Orleans, the movie feels more like the product of a foreign-born director than of a 30-year old from Queens.  In his first feature-length film, Benh Zeitlin has brilliantly captured a world that is alien, out-of-balance (hence, perhaps, the entirely hand-held camerawork), and yet immediately accessible to an audience.  He offers us a glimpse into the heart and soul of humanity everywhere through the eyes of young girl whose observations on survival play out in the most appalling of primitive conditions.  The film has already won several Cannes Film Festival awards as well as the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance.  I believe that the film is also destined for similar honors at the next Academy Award celebration.

“West Side Story” (1961)

“West Side Story” (1961) – directed by Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins (5 stars)

“Life is all right in America if you’re all white in America” 

Evelyn (my wife) and I had already sat through one film at the theater on the day we saw “West Side Story.” We happened to meet up with the projectionist on our way out of the earlier film, and he happened to be discussing with another audience member just how stellar the 70mm print of this film was going to look on the big screen.  So, I asked Evelyn if she was willing to stay to watch the opening sequence, which features an incredibly energetic dance sequence filmed on location in Manhattan.  She begrudgingly agreed, and it was just as good if not better than I remembered it.  When it ended, I got up to leave and was summarily ordered to sit down.  We sat through the entire film, intermission and all.  Such is the power of cinema at its best.  Say what you will about the dated aspects of the dialogue and the weak acting of the two leads, the film is still an absolute pleasure to watch.  Seeing it in 70mm with a large, engaged audience enriched the experience far beyond what would have been possible on my home TV, no matter how large a group I might be able to assemble or how large my screen.  

The musical recounts the familiar story of star-crossed lovers, whose relationship is doomed from the moment they meet.  Like Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet,” upon which this story is closely based, Maria (Natalie Wood), an immigrant Puerto Rican, and Tony (Richard Beymer), a native born white of Polish ancestry, begin their brief affair just as their clannish kinsmen are preparing to rumble.  Tony’s best friend is Riff (Russ Tamblyn), the leader of a white gang dubbed the Jets.  Maria’s brother is Bernardo (George Chakiris), the leader of the Puerto Rican gang the Sharks.  Could the deck be stacked any higher against them?  Young, innocent and oblivious, ultimately, they very quickly fall victim to the culture of honor that surrounds them.  Territoriality, racism, misogyny, misunderstandings, and sheer bad luck conspire to dash any chances they may have had for happiness.

 

“West Side Story” was nominated for 11 and won 10 Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director (Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins), Supporting Actors (Rita Morena and George Chakiris), Art Direction, Cinematography, and Editing.  However, two key contributors did not win and were not even nominated.  These were composer Leonard Bernstein and lyricist Steven Sondheim, without whose contributions this film could never have been made. (Ironically, the four men who arranged the score shared the Award for Music.)  Bernstein’s hallmark fusion of syncopated jazz and Latin rhythms mirrored the out-of-balance lives lived by the protagonists and their peers.  Sondheim lyrics are brilliant and incredibly on the mark, whether applied in a romantic (“Somewhere”), sarcastic (“America”), or socially satirical (“Gee, Officer Krupke”) setting.  And then there’s the film’s spectacular opening dance number.  Following a series of aerial shots of Manhattan, the choreography escalates from cat and mouse games between small units of the Jets and Sharks into increasingly larger and more violent encounters.  The creative energy required to put together this lengthy sequence must have been enormous.  There is so much going on that it’s not possible to take in all of the action playing out on the large, wide screen.

With the exception of “Saving Private Ryan,” I can think of no other film that sustains from its opening shot so long a high level of energy.  What does it matter if the two leads are dubbed and John Astin (“Addams Family”) is miscast as the chaperon at the dance or if Simon Oakland (Lt. Schrank) recites his line as blandly as if he’s explaining why Norman Bates killed his mother in “Psycho” (which he did)?  The story, the songs, and the dancing just don’t get any better than this.  No wonder it’s rated number 51 on AFI’s top 100 list of American films and number 2 (just below “Singing in the Rain”) on their top 100 list of musicals.  And no wonder, too, that Evelyn (and I) decided to watch it once again, this time in all its 70mm glory.

Ju-on: The Grudge (2002)

Ju-on: The Grudge (2002), directed by Takashi Shimizu, 4.5 stars

"A Curse born of a strong grudge held by someone who died.  The place of his death gathers his grudge.  Anyone who comes into contact with this curse shall lose his life and a new curse is born."  – Japanese proverb

If “Ju-on: The Grudge” is any indication, haunted houses in Japan don’t play by the same rules as those invented in Hollywood.  It doesn’t matter if you’ve been bad or good; you’re as good as dead when you enter the one in this film.

This is the only film in the “Ju-on” oeuvre that I’ve seen so far, and on first viewing (I’ve since watched it again), I found it eerily unsettling.  I also found it a bit confusing, but not as a result of any deficiency in the film.  I simply couldn’t consistently differentiate all of the characters.  There are many of them, and some not only look similar (at least to me), they also have similar sounding names.  On second viewing, this was not a problem, and I’m sure it would not be a problem of any sort for a Japanese audience. 

The film is organized into 10-15 minute titled segments that move backward and forward in time, a narrative form that makes the film much more interesting and demands more attention from the viewer.  I’m still not 100% clear if any of these chapters actually represents the present, but for my own purposes, I will ascribe that timeframe to the first full segment titled “Rika.” The scene begins after the credits and a violent opening sequence consisting of quick and jarring cuts to blades, blood, and other carnage, none of which can be fully contextualized until one has seen the film in its entirety.  If “Rika” takes place in the present, then we travel both into the past as well as several years into the future, but I’ll say more about that a bit later.

Rika, a young and inexperienced social worker, is sent to pay a visit to an elderly woman.  A colleague was dispatched the day before and has not been heard from.  Rika enters the house and finds it littered with food and miscellaneous debris which is strewn all about.  She hears scratching coming from a translucent screen door and opens it to find the old woman clawing at it, the first in a series of progressively spookier scares.  After cleaning up as best she can, she hears a noise and follows the sound to an upstairs bedroom where she finds a closet that has been carelessly taped shut.  A cat howls from behind the closet door, so she removes the tape, peers inside, and spots the cat and a little boy, bruised from head to toe, holding on to it.  I don’t think I’m giving too much away by saying that the boy and cat are bad news, but they’ve got nothing on the other dangerous denizens of the house.  Not that it makes much difference.  All of them are equally capable of dispensing a momentary chill of terror prior to dispatching their victim.

But it isn’t the blood and gore that makes this film so effective.  It is the steady stream of small horrors that nibble at the psyche before consuming their victims whole.  Objects of terror are as likely to appear in a bright, busy restaurant as they are in the recesses of a dark attic.  They are especially likely to lurk in one’s peripheral vision.  A turn of the head and they’re gone—at least for now.  Characters are never really sure if there was or still is something there, and often neither are we.  


Director Takashi Shimizu is a master of transference.  The audience is nearly as unnerved as Rika and others by the subtle assaults on our consciousness: a floating wisp of hair, a puff of black smoke, a distorted image on a TV screen, a small figure rushing by out of the corner of one’s eye, a figure reflected briefly in a glass door, or a mirror that momentarily reveals a ghostly shadow.   These images linger long, and like the demonic curse they represent, are not confined to the threshold of a hateful, haunted house.